


Wake Up

by ViraLayton



Series: Nathan Sharp's Surreal Nightmare [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Monsters, Suffering, Surreal, what a weird amalgamation of people used, what even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9551573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViraLayton/pseuds/ViraLayton
Summary: Nathan Sharp, trapped in a labyrinth, being chased by god knows what. Maybe he’s not even being chased, who the hell knows at this point?How the hell did this happen? One moment he’s having a grand old time with Hunter and Brett, next the floor collapses out from underneath him. He remembered falling, and falling, and falling. Endlessly, it seemed. Endless until he landed face first onto a solid sandstone floor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just kind of a general warning:  
> I wrote this entire thing at 2 AM while also sleep deprived. So none of this is going to make sense.  
> Enjoy Nate's suffering everyone.

A maze.  
Nate collapsed in a corner with a heavy sigh, his breaths erratic and laboured. He was never getting out, who was he kidding? Nathan Sharp, trapped in a labyrinth, being chased by god knows what. Maybe he’s not even being chased, who the hell knows at this point?  
How the hell did this happen? One moment he’s having a grand old time with Hunter and Brett, next the floor collapses out from underneath him. He remembered falling, and falling, and falling. Endlessly, it seemed. Endless until he landed face first onto a solid sandstone floor.  
He took a few deep breaths again, looking around. Was he supposed to go right? No, he just came from that direction. Unless the walls moved again, the mere thought pulling a groan from his throat. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unsurprised when he had no signal. No communication. Just him and a big stone labyrinth. Endlessly changing. Endlessly repeating. Endless. Nate ran a hand through his hair and rose back to his feet.  
He took one too many right turns, or did he go left? Was he still in the same spot as before? He let out another shout, his powerful voice echoing all around him. He pounded his fists against the wall in frustration. Damn it, what did he do to deserve to get trapped here? Thinking just made him angrier, a kick to the wall bouncing him back to the middle of the path. He turned, arms folded across his chest.  
He didn’t get far before the ground underneath him crumbled, hardly giving him time to jump out of the way. Once more he fell to the ground, his frustration got the better of him and he stayed still, somehow managing to fall asleep.  
Upon awakening, Nate found himself still in the same spot, though this time a figure stood before him. Well, they crouched before him. To be at his level. The figure emitted a slight glow, and to a foggy-minded, just awoken Nate this was quite the sensory shock. He sat up and scrambled back, though he nearly plunged into the hole behind him. The figure grabbed him by the ankle with a glowing hand before he could. Nate, panicked, looked for the figure’s face.  
The face he found at was androgynous, with cherubic features and light, glowing skin. Red hair curled around the edges of their face, and green eyes stared directly at him.  
Nate spoke, his voice slightly cracking as he did, “Excuse me, sir or madame, or whatever you are. Uhm, where am I?”  
“That would be madame,” She said, her voice low and hushed. “You’re simply in a maze. An endless labyrinth with no clear exit.”  
Nate huffed, “Yeah, I gathered that much.”  
She smiled, pulling Nate to his feet, “Come, child. The labyrinth will be dark soon, and the maze has many a monster you do not wish to meet.”  
“Hold up, monsters?”  
She did not respond, and simply pulled him to a solid, short dead end. The three walls around them made him feel just a bit safer. The light suddenly vanished from the maze, and the only light now was the pale glow of the woman’s body. Well, now that he looked closer, he saw a glowing necklace around her neck. Some sort of aura or whatever magical bullshit it could be. A long, flowing white dress covered her form. Nate looked her in the eye, “Hey, lady, who are you?”  
“Oh. Forgive my manners. I am Cyph. Lovely to meet you…?”  
“Nate, Nate Sharp.”  
She nodded, “Nice to meet you, Nate, though the circumstances could be better.”  
Nate nodded, backing up into the wall, “You could say that again.”  
“How long have you been here?” Cyph asked, her hands resting on her lap.  
“Does time even matter here? Like, does it move here?”  
She shook her head, “I figured you for a fool, and I humoured you by asking.”  
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”  
They sat in silence for a moment before Nate spoke again. “You said there were monsters…?”  
“Yes, I did.”  
“What kind?” He leaned back on his hands, “Like your standard fare, weird shit. Like what’s going on?”  
Cyph thought for a moment, “Hallucinations, ghosts, vampires. Standard things. But cannibals, man sized abominations too complex for the human mind to understand, enormous masses of flesh.” She smiled, “All kinds, though they only roam at night.”  
Nate looked to the sky, the light quickly fading to pitch black darkness. From underneath her dress Cyph pulled out a large, flame lit lantern. The flame inside was violet, and it illuminated the three walls around them. Nate looked at Cyph, and the situation he was in finally clicked. He was surrounded by walls, given little light and his only exit is blocked by this strange, glowing woman.  
He apprehensively looked at her, “And which type of monster are you?”  
She smiled even wider, the edges of her mouth splitting into ‘v’ shapes. She began to bleed. “Why a wendigo of course.”  
Nate scrambled to his feet and grabbed at the lantern. She charged him, blood splashing against his face as she flew past and slammed into the back wall. He stared at her from the mouth of the dead end.  
Her smile split her skin, her skin opening up to her ears. The flesh of her human body began to peel away, causing Nate to back up. “Nathan, don’t run, I think you’ll taste delicious.”  
“Fuck this,” he whispered. His body wanted him to run, but as the skin around her face shrunk back, he found it hard to tear his eyes off the sight. Her lower jaw fell to the floor with a gross squish, and a lolling, prehensile tongue uncoiled itself from her mouth. Nate finally found the strength to run.  
He ran, lantern in hand down twists and turns in the labyrinth. He heard claws behind him, and turning a corner let him see her chasing close behind. Nate held his lantern higher, but he could only see about 20 feet before the violet light succumbed to the darkness. He cursed under his breath and took a sharp left turn. He slammed directly into something hard, and only momentarily realized he had crashed straight into a wall.  
Claws slid behind him and he turned, back pressed to the wall as the glowing white figure of the wendigo approached. Her dress was gone, and her skin was pulled taught to her frame. Every bone, organ, and imperfection was on display. Nate’s breath caught in his throat. He was frozen with fear.  
She growled, though not in happiness or anger. In confusion. Her head rapidly turned, and she no longer stared directly at Nate. She screamed out, craning her neck in every possible direction. It was as if she couldn’t see him while he wasn’t moving. She turned away, running off in the opposite direction.  
Nate breathed out a sigh when he thought she was far enough away, panting heavily. He slumped to the floor, realizing he was simply in another corner. He stifled a groan, trying not to attract whatever else could be in this godforsaken maze.  
“At least it wasn’t a Minotaur or David Bowie.” he mused. He pulled himself back up and kept walking. He noticed his heart was racing, pulsing in his ears. His grip on the lantern increased. In the far corners of the labyrinth he swore he could hear cheering, chanting, howling, screaming. His pace quickened, the voices in his thoughts begging for daytime.  
No daylight ever came. It was only violet. Only sandstone walls taller than him, bathed in dark light. At least that wendigo was kind enough to give him a light. He ran a hand along the wall as he proceeded. Every turn was the same. Every long path with branching turns was swallowing him whole. Every dead end filled with dread, that something could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t escape. The lantern how hung from a ring on his jeans, it being surprisingly light. Another turn sent him towards a long and twisted dead end, and with a groan he kicked at the wall.  
“Stupid fucking piece of garbage maze can suck my ass.” The words came from his mouth like steam from a pipe. He leaned his head against the wall, his breath becoming ragged and shaky. “Fuck, I just…”  
Before he could finish the sentence, something grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the wall. He was instantly knocked out, his body crumpling into large hands as he faded to black.  
He woke with his hands and ankles tied together, the lantern sitting a few feet away. He was no longer where he was before, but in the darkness he couldn’t begin to guess where he was. He went to open his mouth, only to find he had been gagged with a heavy rope. He looked around. Beside him on a couch sat another man, though he was not bound and gagged like he was. He appeared to be human, his brown hair messily parted to one side and a scruffy beard beginning to form on his jaw. His blue eyes stared blankly at Nate.  
“Morning, sunshine. I’d ask how you are but you appear in a worse position than I am.” He held up an arm, showing a chain attaching him to the couch he was seated on. “Welcome to the Void. I’m Ian. You can try to say your name if you care.”  
Nate coughed around the gag in his mouth, “Matkshhe.” Well, he was close.  
“Mace? Matt?” Nate shook his head and tried again, “Mate… Nate?” Nate nodded. “Nate. Lovely name.”  
Nate attempted to sit up, and got pretty far before his muscles seized up and he fell back to the floor. Ian sat back into the couch’s cushions, the black fabric eating him up. Nate took a moment to look around, making a poor attempt to understand his situation. Black void surrounded them, swallowing any light. The only things in the room were the two of them, the couch, a television, table, and a potted plant. Those and the violet lantern, of course. Ian shifted, his chain rattling, “Void. This is actually a room, but the walls are so dark the swallow light and gives it an infinite illusion. I think it used to be a jail cell actually.” Nate blinked at him, a small attempt to prove he understood. The ground under him began to shake and Ian’s face grew worried. He drew his arms into the hoodie he was wearing and obscured his face with the hood. “The monster.” He paused as Nate began to hear stomping, gradually growing louder. “Do everything he says and you’ll be fine.”  
Nate wished he could question why, but a door flew open before any noise escape his throat. In from a glowing hole in the void stepped a monster, larger than the wendigo he had just met. The monster ducked down under the door, it’s head that of a lion. Beastly teeth protruded from the lower jaw and were adorned with rings and carved with intricate details. The body of this monster was broad and hairy, and long arm ending in massive clawed hands hung past the knees. The beast’s lower body was that of a fawn, though where hooves would be, there were massive claws.  
It growled at Nate, bending down. It slashed his binds and grabbed him by the scalp. Nate yelled in pain as he was lifted from the ground, He was thrown on the couch next to Ian, a chain flying out of the cushions and latching onto his wrist. The monster did not make a move to remove the gag from his mouth. It instead used its massive, clawed hand to slap him across the face, the claws catching his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Nate cried out from behind the gag. Ian turned away as another blow was delivered to Nate’s face. A final third one came, and after looking Nate over, the monster lumbered away, the light of the door leaving the void emptier than before.  
Ian pulled his free wrist into his sleeve, turning to Nate and pressing the fabric against one of the bigger scars now on his face. “Well, you aren’t as beat up as you might think.”  
Nate rolled his eyes and pulled the rope from his mouth. His jaw ached. “Seems to sting a whole hell of a lot.”  
“Well, he was just showing you he was the boss.” Ian frowned, pulling his sleeve back and pressing it against a different spot on his face.  
Nate stared at him for a moment, “What are you doing?”  
“I’m trying to stop you from bleeding out.”  
Nate thought that should have been obvious. He crossed his arms and let Ian continue. They were silent for a good while, and it was only now that he remembered the television. The television was old, with turning knobs for the channel and volume. It was turned on, though it received no station. Black static filled the screen and white noise filled the air. The longer he paid attention to it, the louder it got.  
The white noise filled his ears, his eyes felt like they were glossing over. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. He was vaguely aware of someone shaking him, someone screaming his name, though he couldn't understand them. The noise grew louder, a demonic crescendo ringing his ears. He brought his hands to the sides of his head, one arm bumping against something. His hands dug into his hair as the static filled his mind.  
He pulled his hair, slowly, firmly, gripping so hard he couldn’t tell he was trying to rip his head in half. Nate felt fine, hardly noticing.  
He did notice a sharp pain in his shoulder. And then a second one on his arm. He finally reacted on the third, a pain on his shoulder again and turned away from the television. White hot pain pooled over his body, as if someone had poured a vat of boiling water over him. He curled up, gripping his stomach and screaming out in pain. Sturdy hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and he then realized it was Ian. He looked up to the man, Nate seeing worry in his eyes. He mouthed something, but Nate’s mind was still foggy from the TV.  
Ian shook him, Nate’s senses clearing and he rubbed his head. “What even…”  
“Don’t watch the television.” was all Ian said. He turned away from Nate, stuffing his arms in his hoodie’s pockets. Nate leaned back, resting against the arm of the couch. Ian slowly drifted into sleep. Nate found rest hard to achieve, and quickly tried to find something to take his mind off of the situation. Behind him on the floor was the plant. A small fern or something. He reached out for it, and when his hand brushed the leaves, his body slumped over, and he was instantly sent to sleep.  
When Ian awoke later, he found the spot on the couch next to him empty, and a foggy memory of a handsome, black-haired man in his memory. He shook his head, figuring it was the remnants of a dream, and went back to sleep.  
Nate sat up, the surrounding room pure, blinding white. He squinted, having gotten used to the darkness of the void. He looked himself over, his dark clothing standing out in the white abyss. A figure bathed in darkness stood far away from him, seeming to get farther every second. Nate scrambled to his feet, running after the figure.  
He ran quickly, his body never running out of breath. The world seemed to pop in and out of view with every step. Buildings would tower in the distance, only to be replaced with empty whiteness moments later. Grey grass behind him grew and faded in an instant. He was slowly catching up to the figure ahead of him.  
The ground cracked beneath him, the black void coming up beneath his feet. White spots were sparse, but safe. A terrible maze of black and white spaces slowly evaporated with each muscle movement of his body, and when the ground was solid and the white expanse was whole, he was mere feet from the other figure. This figure was humanoid, shaggy black hair and wore nothing but black clothes. He thought, as well, that the figure was pale, but Nate didn’t notice until he approached closer that the figure had no colour. The whole world was monochrome. He himself was the only object with a little colour.  
The man looked at him, strands of his hair slipping into his eyes, “Who are you?” he asked. Nate thought that his voice was surprisingly soft.  
“My name is Nathan.”  
The strange man cocked his head, “Nathan.” His head violently whipped in a different direction, “My name is Jordan.”  
Nate nodded, “It’s, uhm, nice to meet you Jordan.”  
The man’s blank face shifted in an instant, like a skeleton. His head whipped violently in several directions and his white eyes stared blankly at Nate. “Nathan, have you ever wondered what it’s like being utterly, utterly alone?” His head turned violently in a different direction.  
Nate stepped back a few paces, “Yeah, I have sometimes.”  
Jordan’s face whipped towards him, his eyes pools of black ink. It dripped down his pale, white face like tears. Some landed near Nate’s feet, and they burned holes into the solid white ground. “I always wonder what other people see in their dreams. Do they dream? Do they simply stop working?” His head turned around, and Nate heard crunching coming from the bones in his neck. “What do you think, Nathan?”  
Nate gained a look of confusion, “I think that people- I don’t know -dream now and again.” His eyes connected with Jordan’s, the man’s face half black, the other half blank. He reached his right hand out to Nate, and though Nate thought he was plenty far enough away from him, Jordan grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.  
The black faded from Jordan’s face, and void lines shattered across like cracks on a porcelain doll. “But what of the utterly alone, who have nothing to dream of? Do they dream of sadness, of misery?” Nate pulled his head back as Jordan’s got closer, eyes swirling pools of black and white, “Or do they dream of peeling their skin off with dull knives? Do they dream of putting guns in their mouths and pulling the trigger? Do they dream, Nathan?”  
“God I hope not. That’s terrible.” Nate tried to find more words, but none could be said. He stared as Jordan’s face became normal, all except his eyes. Nate heard the ground underneath crumble away as Jordan’s eyes pooled with crimson red.  
“I hope you dream, Nathan.”  
Jordan dropped him, and he plummeted into the void below. He was swallowed up by the inky blackness, the man slowly slipped out of view. Nate sighed, “What the hell is even going on?” He twisted around, though no matter how hard he turned he couldn’t find a right direction to be in. His eyes slipped shut, and he figured he should just embrace whatever horrible fate he would face next. Or maybe he would just be home.  
He could almost feel it: The soft bed sheets, the firmness of the mattress, the warmth of Morgan being next to him, sound asleep. His eyes shot open upon realizing he was feeling it, and he sat up. He was in his bed, in his room, though the side of the bed next to him was empty. A wave of relief came over him, and he laid back down. Nate closed his eyes, curling the surrounding sheets. He figured he was just dreaming, and perhaps Morgan had gotten up to use the bathroom. Yeah, that made sense. More sense than that dream.  
It did until the two windows in his room exploded and an ear shattering scream came from down the hall. Nate shot out of the bed, rushing down the hall. He got to the bathroom, the door wide open and a river of blood pouring out like water. Morgan stood above the sink, the mirror in front of her shattered and her hands covered with blood. Nate recoiled, “Morgan? Love, is everything alright?” He reached his hand out for her.  
Her head shot up, and in the shattered reflection of the mirror, he saw her face. A smile was carved into the sides of her mouth, and blood poured from her eyes. Her hair was matted to her cheeks and forhead, and the clothes she wore were pinned to her body with shards of mirror. She slowly turned, “Everything is fine, love.”  
Her scratchy voice was hushed, mainly due to the slice around her throat. Blood poured out of the wound, and Nate shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the illusion. He tried to think of something, anything to get this image out of his mind. He just needed some fresh air.  
The gentle breeze blew Morgan’s white dress into the air, and she ran ahead of Nate, up a hill towards a single tree. The Autumn weather had caused all the leaves to fall off it, leaving it seemingly dead and lifeless. Nate followed, a basket in one hand and a blanket under the other. Morgan tapped the tree, turning as Nate made it to the top. Her black eyes showed no emotion, and she held her hands out to him, “Nate, this was such a wonderful idea for a date. The stars are beautiful here.”  
Nate took her hands and pulled her close, resting his head on top of hers, “It was my idea, wasn’t it?”  
Morgan simply smiled and looked towards the sky. She pointed towards the east, “There’s the Aquarius constellation. The water-bearer.”  
Nate turned to the east, and saw no stars, but as he went to tell this to Morgan, she turned into water in his arms. He yelled out to her, but nothing happened. The tree near him suddenly exploded, water pouring out and washing him down the hill. He slammed into the side of a building, once more fading to black.  
And again Nate opened his eyes, submerged under crystal clear water. In a ballroom filled with glowing stars. He could breathe the water, though somehow his body stopped him from speaking out. He swam towards the floor, standing on it as if the room was normal. Upon hitting the floor, the ballroom erupted with noise. Nate turned to try and find the source, only to be met with dancers.  
Many, many people in large ballgowns, each brightly coloured and flowing in the water. All were masked, obscuring their identities. A hand placed itself on Nate’s shoulder, and he turned to find a tall, blonde woman. She held out her hand, her ivory skin decorated with a fine blue dress. A Venetian mask covered her face, but her golden eyes shined behind the cover. “I have not had a chance to dance, shall we?”  
Nate’s reply choked in his throat, and she took the odd noise as a yes, holding out her hand for him. Nate sighed and took it, walking with her to the centre of the ballroom. His hand on her hip, they waltzed to the song an invisible band was playing.  
“My name is Clarissa. You are Nathan, I assume?” Nate gave her a look of utter confusion before nodding. From under her dress she pulled out a large mask, as elaborate as hers, “Put this on.”  
Not willing to risk the consequence of refusing in this fantasy, Nate gingerly took the mask and placed it on his face. “What the hell is going on?” He asked.  
Clarissa laughed, “Why, Nathan, it’s a masked ball! I thought that much was obvious.”  
“No, I saw that. I mean,” he sighed, “I’ve just been having a shitty day, I guess.”  
The music kicked up, almost in an eerie way, “It happens to the best of us. Tell me, what has you down?”  
“Oh, you know, being chased by monsters in Labyrinths, being attacked by different monsters, voids, creepy people. I think I hallucinated my girlfriend dying too.” He thought about it as he spoke. God that sounded like one hell of a drug trip. Not that he’s ever done any drugs to know that.  
Clarissa laughed again, “I see. A bad day for you my friend.” She let him go, and Nate soon realized they were the only ones in the ballroom, and it was silent. She twirled in her dress, the blue fabric disturbing the glowing orbs in the room. “The Void is not to be trifled with. He doesn’t like ungrateful guests.”  
Nate’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Wait, the void is a person?”  
“No, you imbecile.” She scoffed, pulling out a lace fan from the air. She began to fan herself off with it, “The Void is a construct. We’re in him right now.”  
“Gross.”  
Clarissa sighed, turning away from him. She climbed a short set of stairs, though she kept climbing even after there were no more stairs left. “You are ungrateful.”  
“How am I ungrateful? I’ve just been here and I’m lost. I’m confused. I’ve almost died and I’m the ungrateful one.” He threw his hands in the air, “No, this is fine. This is perfect.” Nate ran after Clarissa, almost forgetting that he was underwater.  
He reached her, and went to say something else. She interrupted him before he could continue, “I’ve had enough of you.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” He got no further than this. She opened her fan as far as it could go and threw it at him. Only too late did he realize the edge of the fan was a razor sharp blade that easily sliced through his neck.  
He woke up in utter darkness. Inky, heavy darkness. So dark not even Nate was sure he had a body. Did he have a body? Was he just a head. A quick move of his hands told him, no, he was not decapitated, he was still whole.  
He stood up, his clothes squishing and making odd noises. With nothing better to do, he trudged forward.  
The darkness didn’t seem that bad. Sure there was no light, no people, nothing, but he felt safe. Safer than he was before.  
Though he trudged forward, his knees became tired. He thought nothing of it, and pressed on.  
He thought nothing of it when his ankles became sore. Or his muscles.  
Soon Nate’s leg muscles gave out completely, and he crawled on his arms.  
Nate’s arms gave out. He was panting, he was tired. His body had gone numb and limp. He pushed himself onto his back, staring into the void. He tried to scream, but nothing came from his mouth. Not even a whisper of air.  
He sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. He waited. Minutes passed by.  
Static began to creep back into his head. Hours passed, and he was screaming voiceless words. The static was deafening now, his vision muddled and fuzzy. Days passed by, and his voice was raw. He constantly was screaming.  
His face was wet with tears. It had really only been seconds, hadn’t it? Nate stood up, and screamed to the void, asking what it wanted. What it was doing to him, why it was doing it. He wanted an answer. His silent voice got no reply.  
He did feel the ground fall out from under him.  
Nate shut his eyes tightly, begging for a release from the hell he was in.  
He woke up to two people yelling, both panicked. A firm arm was against his back. He groaned. This seemed to catch the attention of whoever was near him. “He’s awake.”  
“Oh thank god, I don’t think I could have handled any more of that.” A different voice.  
Nate forced his eyes open, and was greeted by the worried faces of Hunter and Brett. He let out another groan.  
“Dude are you alright, what the hell happened?” Brett asked. Hunter pulled him up and brought Nate to a chair. He was a lot weaker than he thought he should be. “You were just talking to us and then collapsed to the floor.”  
“We thought you might have just passed out but as soon as we got near you, some freaky shit started happening.”  
Nate started hyperventilating.  
“Nate, what’s wrong?” Brett stepped closer. Hunter gave Nate a look.  
“No, no, no this can’t be happening.” Nate whispered.  
Hunter and Brett exchanged a glance, “Nate, buddy, you alright?”  
“Everything’s cool, fine, nifty.” Nate’s voice was raspy.  
Brett pulled up a chair, “Dude you were convulsing and flailing, and then you started bleeding profusely. Did something happen?”  
Nate put his hands to his head, tightly weaving his fingers into his hair. There was still static in his head. He tried to calm his breathing, but nothing was working. This had to be fake. He was awake, he was fine. He had to be. He remembered hearing Hunter say he was getting Nate a glass of water. He remembered Hunter handing him a cup of something.  
He remembered looking Hunter and Brett in the eyes, and watching the two of them begin to bleed from the eyes. Nate screamed, but no sound came out as Hunter and Brett ran towards him, and he blacked out as blood filled his eyes and he could no longer see.  
And he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Funfact: The save file for this was "At least it's not a Minotaur or David Bowie."


End file.
